


In Exile

by uberdrums



Category: Hannibal (TV), Jagten | The Hunt (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, False Accusations, Fluff, Hannibal isn't actually in this but he is mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Suicidal Thoughts, Will is still Will, as is Will's former life at the FBI, hannigram AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uberdrums/pseuds/uberdrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucas finds there are still some good people left in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i've written a fic in 4 years be gentle with me

You’ve been searching for hours. It’s the end of autumn. It’s dark and raining. You’re cold. You left your jacket at home. But you need to find her. She’s the only good thing left in your life. You’ve been fired from your job. You’ve been accused of the most heinous of crimes. Your ex-wife won’t let you see your own son. Your precious dog is your only tie to happiness.

And now she’s gone.

Who knows what’s happened to her. For all you know, one of the many people hounding you could’ve taken her, could’ve hurt her. She’s been gone for 3 days, she could be dead. They could’ve killed her.

No. No, don’t think like that. Keep looking. You have to keep looking.

Tears sting your eyes. You need your dog. You need her back. Your precious Fanny.

You’re tearing through the woods, calling out her name until your throat goes hoarse. You’re like a mad man, searching for your damn dog. The damn dog that means so damn much to you. You lose count of how many times you trip and stumble. You’re not even looking where you’re going anymore. You’re just searching blindly.

There’s a nagging feeling, in your gut, in your chest, in the back of your head.

You know you’re not gonna find her. No one would help you if you asked, no one would tell you if they’d seen her. It’s hopeless. Give up. It’s just a dog. She’s just a dog.

You fall to your knees. You bury your face in your hands and you scream and you yell and you sob until there’s no more air left in your lungs. You just want your dog back. You miss her so much. Her soft fur, the way she follows you around and never listens because she’s too stupid to understand what you’re saying. The way she loves you unconditionally. The way probably no one ever will ever again.

You miss her so much you swear you can hear her distinctive bark. That’s just great. Now your stupid head has turned against you. And there’s the bark again. And again. And again.

 

You know what crazy is, you’ve seen crazy. Your ex-wife is crazy. But you’re sure you’re not crazy. That bark is too real to… not be real. You clamber to your feet and start running. Running toward where you’re sure the bark is coming from.

The trees start to thin, the bark is getting louder. Your heart is thundering your chest. You burst out of the forest and into a field and you see her. And you know she sees you.

She comes bounding up to you barking excitedly, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. You fall to your knees again and she leaps into your arms. You bury your face in her fur and sob brokenly. She’s real. She’s alive. She’s here. You’ve got your dog back. She’s yapping in your ear, it’s loud and annoying and you wish she wouldn’t but you don’t care because your dog is okay. _You_ are okay.

You pull away and you check her all over, for any kind of injuries, making sure she’s okay.

And then you see  _him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's dogs.  
> Lots of dogs.  
> Dogs everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter sucks and it's long i'm so sorry pls don't leave
> 
> i have a general idea of where i want this fic to go, but i don't know how i'm gonna lead up to it so just... hang in there pls it'll get good soon i promise

Your eyes are drawn upwards, to a looming figure with curly hair. He’s stood there awkwardly, looking down at you. You think you hear him clear his throat, but the noise is so quiet you can’t be sure.

“Is- is that your dog?”

He’s American. Quiet. Never quite meets your eyes. You nod slowly at him.

“Yes.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’s uncomfortable, that much you can tell. You wonder if he knows who you are. You feel a lump forming in your throat.

“I, um, I found her - your dog - the other day… while I was out walking my own dogs. I’ve been looking for her owner since then, I could tell she wasn’t just any old stray.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and shoves the other in his pocket.

You want to express your sincere gratitude to this kind man, for looking after your sweet dog, for making sure no harm came to her. You just can’t quite find the right words.

“Th-thank… you…”

You suppose that’ll have to do.

He nods, or at least you think he’s nodding. It’s more of a jerk of his head than a proper nod. He flashes a small, yet genuine smile at you and it makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t remember the last time someone smiled at you, however brief it may have been.

He turns to leave and you suddenly realise that you don’t want him to. This man, whoever he is, is the only person who’s treated you like a real person since… you don’t even know when. You want him to stay. You want to talk to him. You miss talking to people.

He’s walking away, you realise. Stop him.

“W-wait!” You manage to choke out. You rise to your feet and take a few hesitant steps after him.

He turns to face you again, still not quite meeting your eyes. You want to say something to him. You don’t know what. You haven’t spoken to anyone properly in so long that you’ve forgotten how to make conversation.

Idiot.

He’s studying your face. He’s trying to figure you out. Or, at least, you think he is. He’s got one eyebrow raised, he’s obviously waiting for you to say something.

“U-uh, I… I’m, um, Lucas. It’s nice to meet you. And, uh, really, thank you for looking after my Fanny.”

He quirks his eyebrow again. This time he looks slightly amused. You realise how that must’ve sounded. You can feel the blush creeping up your neck.

“M-my dog. Her name is Fanny,” you chuckle.

He smiles properly at you and you find yourself smiling back. You can feel your heart flutter in your chest. _He really does have a lovely smile_ , you think. _When was the last time you smiled?_

“You’re welcome, Lucas. I’m glad I’ve managed to reunite the two of you. My name is Will.”

Fanny is at your feet now. She’s wagging her tail and panting away quite happily. The man, Will, bends down to scratch behind her ear and she whines appreciatively at him. You can feel your heart swell in your chest.

“You mentioned you have dogs also?” You hear yourself say.

Will looks up at you from where he’s knelt stroking Fanny. His eyes are strikingly blue, you notice. You don’t know why you’d notice something like that.

“Yeah. Seven of them, actually.” He chuckles nervously. You find it… adorable?

“Seven dogs. Wow. That’s, uh, that’s a lot. I find it difficult keeping up with just the one dog, sometimes,” you laugh.

He laughs with you. The sound is like music to your ears.

“Yeah, it is a lot. I take in strays, as you may have guessed,” he glances down at Fanny.

You nod. You’re not sure where to take the conversation from here. But you do know you can’t let Will leave. Not yet. Not when you feel so… alive.

You both stand there. Minute shifts in both of your stances giving away your shared discomfort of the silence.

“Do you want to meet them?” Will blurts out.

You stare at him dumbfounded for a few beats.

“My dogs,” Will emphasises. “Do you want to meet my dogs?”

Oh. Duh.

A small smile creeps its way onto your face.

“I’d love to.”

He smiles at you, gesturing for you to follow him.

  
  


You walk in silence for a short time, before Will’s house comes into view. You didn’t even know this house existed out here, let alone that anyone would live in it. It’s small, old and looks anything but structurally sound.

Will bounds up to his front door ahead of you and opens it up to reveal seven dogs. They all come flooding out and Fanny runs up to them. She obviously must’ve become friendly with them in the few days she was here. The thought makes you smile.

A few of the dogs start sniffing around your legs so you bend down to stroke them. One of them in particular seems very interested in you.

“That’s Winston,” Will beams at you. He’s very passionate about his dogs. You like that about him.

“Would you like to come in for a hot drink, maybe?” He asks you. You certainly would. So you say yes.

He leads you inside and motions for you to take a seat on an old sofa. His house is a lot cosier from the inside. Before you realise what you’re doing, you’re voicing your thoughts.

“I didn’t even know this house was out here. It’s cosy,” you mutter. “I like it.”

Will looks up from where he’s preparing two cups of what you presume to be coffee.

“How long have you been here? In Denmark, I mean?” You ask.

Will hesitates. Clearly uncomfortable.

“A few months. I came here from Virginia, in the US. I, uh, some… stuff, happened… Couldn’t stay there anymore…”

You’re intrigued. You figure now isn’t the time to ask about that though, so you simply nod in return.

He walks over slowly with two steaming mugs of - yes, you were right - coffee. You’re grateful for the hot beverage, especially after being out in the cold and rain all day searching for Fanny. You hum appreciatively as the hot liquid slides down your throat. Will is watching you from over his mug. You think you can see a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Your English is very good,” he says after a while of stealing glances at you. “I haven’t met that many people here, but none of them have been as articulate as you.”

“Heh, yes. I used to teach mathematics at the local high school before it closed. It’s a useful thing to know for any kind of teacher,” you chuckle.

“I used to be a teacher as well, back in America. I taught at the FBI Academy, actually.”

He immediately looks like he wishes he’d never mentioned that. He’s suddenly very focused on his coffee. Before you can stop yourself, you’re asking him about it.

“The FBI? Wow, that’s impressive. Much more interesting than being a silly old maths teacher. What did you teach there? Were you also an agent?”

You regret asking him that instantly. His face looks sullen and he’s nervously drumming his fingers on his knees. He doesn’t answer you. His eyes keep flitting around the room.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you mumble. “It’s clear I’ve upset you. I should probably leave now.”

You don’t want to leave, of course you don’t. But you can tell when you’re no longer welcome somewhere.

You rise to leave. You call Fanny over and walk to the front door.

“L-Lucas, you don’t have to leave. It’s just a… sore subject.”

You turn to look at him. He’s chewing his lip. You find yourself entirely mesmerised by the action. You realise you’re enraptured by this man and the thought concerns you. Only slightly.

“I still think I should leave. It is late, after all. I need to walk home before it gets any later.”

The words are bitter on your tongue. You really don’t want to leave.

Will nods at you, he looks disappointed.

“Could… Could I get your number? In case you ever wanted to walk our dogs, ya’ know, together?” He asks you.

He’s looking beyond your shoulder at the door. There’s a subtle rouge tint to his cheeks now. You can feel your heart beating wildly.

He looks more and more uncomfortable the longer you take to answer. You don’t know why your mouth won’t form the simple words you so badly want to say. Yes. That’s all you have to say.

“It’s- it’s just, I don’t really know anyone here. I’m not usually bothered about being… alone, but being in a new country kind of changes that,” he rubs his hands across his thighs, still chewing on his lip. You hate yourself in that instant for making him so nervous; for not being able to say a simple “Yes,” to him.

“U-uh, sure. Yeah, of course. I’d like that,” you finally manage to spit out. You take a quick look around for a scrap of paper and a pen, which you quickly find. You jot your number down and hand it to him.

You smile at each other and it is delicious.

“I guess I’ll see you, then,” you try to sound sure of yourself, but you can’t help the way your voice goes ever so slightly high at the end, making it sound like a question. You kick yourself internally for acting like such a goddamn teenager.

“Yeah, I’ll call you,” he beams at you. You throw him a quick wave and a small smile before you go, Fanny at your heels.

 

As soon as you’re out of sight of his house, you stop. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears. You can’t breathe. You’re scared and you don’t know why.

No.

That’s wrong.

You do know why.

You’re scared that you’ve made a friend. You’ve made a friend and you’re going to care about him. You’re going to care about him a lot and he’s going to find out all the lies about you. He’s going to find out all the lies about you and he’s going to leave. He’s going to leave and he’s going to hate you and you’re terrified. You’re terrified because you’ve found someone new and you can already feel the soul crushing pain of when he leaves. Just like everyone else.

_Just like everyone else._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be conversations in danish in this chapter  
> sort of  
> but cos idk how to speak danish cos i'm dumb all the danish dialogue will be written in english but emphasised in italics okkkkkkkk
> 
> wwwwwwooooooowwwwwww this is angsty as fuck i'm so sorry (u have been warned)

You spend the next few days locked away in your home. You don’t go out, you just lay in bed all day, every day. Sometimes managing to drag yourself to the kitchen to get something to eat, but you find you don’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Part of you is hoping, wishing he’d call. Another part of you thinks it’d be better if he didn’t. Save yourself from the inevitable hurt that is to come.

It dawns on you how pathetic you’re being. Waiting at home all day for some guy to call. Not leaving your bed because you’re too depressed to be able to do anything that could be considered productive.

Who can blame you, though.

You think about your son a lot. Your dear boy, Marcus. He’s the only person that’s stuck by you through everything. The only person who believes you. But you can’t see him because he’s not safe with you. Not when the entire town has got a bounty on your head. You think about calling him. You decide against it though. _When this has all blown over_ , you say to yourself. _When this has all blown over, you’ll be able to see him. He’ll be able to move in with you. You can hold on ‘til then, right?_  

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by the sound of your mobile ringing. You stare at it for a few beats before you hesitantly answer it.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“...Hello? Is… Is this Lucas?”

It’s Will. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Hi, yes, this is he. Hi, Will.”

“Hi,” he chuckles softly. You can feel yourself smiling. “I was just thinking about taking my dogs out for a walk and I wondered if maybe you and Fanny would like to join me?”

As if on cue, Fanny comes trotting up beside where you’re sat on your bed and nuzzles her face against your legs. You pet her head.

“We’d love to, thank you. I can meet you at your house in about half an hour, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then,” and with that he hangs up. You could almost see his face shining brightly when you accepted the offer. The thought makes your chest constrict.

You rub your hands over your face and rake your fingers through your hair. You need to shower.

 

You meet him at his house and you find that he’s already sat on his porch waiting for you, his dogs milling about the garden.

“I’m glad you could make it,” his mouth quirks at one side, his cheeks coloured with that beautiful nervous red tint again.

You say nothing, just offer him a gentle smile and a motion to start walking.

You walk and you both talk about nothing in particular. You think that maybe you both find it comforting just to have someone there to talk to, even if you’ve got nothing of interest to say. It’s just nice to hear someone else’s voice.

You tell him about what it was like being a teacher at a high school full of moody teenagers that didn’t want to learn anything. You tell him about your son, Marcus, and you tell him about your ex-wife. He laughs when you call her an evil hag. He tells you a bit of what his life was like back in America. You learn that he used to be a cop before he worked as a teacher at the FBI, until he got stabbed whilst on duty one day. You learn that he likes to fix boat engines, that that’s what his father taught him to do. You tell him that there’s a beautiful lake not too far from here; that you have an old boat that needs fixing, if he ever felt like getting his hands dirty.

You tell him you like hunting deer. He stiffens, at that. He looks like he’s remembering some awful memory before shaking it off. He clears his throat and tells you he was never one for hunting and that he’s never liked deer. He tells you he likes to fish; that he makes his own fishing lures. You tell him you like to fish also. You can almost feel all the tension eb away from his body. He says maybe he’ll take you up on the offer to fix your boat, and that maybe the two of you can go fishing one day. You say you’d like that. You’d like that very much.

You walk together until the cold winter sun starts to slink it’s way down past the trees. You part ways with the promise that you will meet up again soon. You walk home with Fanny right behind you with the sense of feeling truly happy for the first time in months. You’re not going to let your pessimistic thoughts ruin this. You’re not.

 

As soon as you get home you pour some food into Fanny’s bowl and make your way to your bedroom. You collapse on your bed where you stare up at the ceiling for a long while, thoughts swimming about your head. You’re not even sure what you’re thinking about, you just know that your mind is currently spinning.

You reach out blindly for your phone. You pick it up and you dial Marcus’ mobile number. You hold the phone tightly in your hand, pressed right up against your ear. You wait with baited breath for Marcus to answer the phone.

“ _Hello?_ ” Comes a tired voice.

“ _Hi Marcus, it’s your dad._ ”

You hear him shifting, probably sitting up, on the other end of the phone.

“ _Dad,_ ” he’s sounds relieved. Happy, even. “ _Dad, I miss you._ ”

“ _I miss you too, kiddo. I miss you so much._ ”

“ _I want to come see you. I hate not being able to see you._ ”

You sigh. You knew this was coming. Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“ _I know, son. I hate not being able to see you, too. But we both know that’s just the way it has to be for now. When things have settled down, you can come visit whenever you want. Maybe you could even move back in. Would you like that?_ ”

You hear a shaky breath come from on the other end of the line. Your heart constricts in your chest. You hate this.

“ _Yeah, yeah okay._ ”

You’re both silent for some time. You hear Marcus sigh.

“ _I should go now. Mum will start asking questions. Promise me you’ll stay safe, dad,_ ” his voice sounds choked. Like he’s holding back tears. You bite your lip.

“ _Okay, son. I will._ ”

“ _... I love you, dad._ ”

“ _I love you, too, kiddo._ ”

He hangs up.

You break down.

You bury your face in your hands and you sob. You stand and you pace and you sob. You pound your fist against the wall until you’re sure your hand must be broken and then you pound even harder. You lean back against the wall and slide to the floor. You repeatedly knock your head back against the wall, tears streaming down your face. You take off your glasses and throw them across your bedroom. They land somewhere with a clatter. You’ve probably broken them. You don’t care. You scream into your hands and let your body be overcome by wracking, guttural cries. You slump to the floor and curl up in the foetal position and cry until it feels like the whole world is spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut and you let yourself be absorbed by the crippling pain you’re sure will never end.

 

You must’ve fallen asleep like that, because you wake up and all your joints are stiff and it’s starting to get light outside. You don’t know what time it is, you don’t really care. You drag yourself up off the floor and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You gulp it down and wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. You wince at the pain that brings and look down at your hand. It’s black and red, from bruises and blood.

Oh, yeah.

You forgot you took your frustration out on the wall.

You figure you should probably get your hand looked at, it’s probably broken.

But, then again, so what? Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

You trudge back into your bedroom and flop down on the bed. You bury your face so deep in your pillows you find it difficult to breathe. You hope maybe if you stay like this long enough you’ll die of oxygen starvation.

 _Wow, that was morbid_.

Who cares.

Who cares who cares who cares who the fuck cares.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

You should just kill yourself. That’ll make everything easier. No one will care. No one will miss you.

_What about Marcus?_

He’s better off without you.

_He needs his dad._

No he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you. You’re just ruining his life.

_What about Will?_

What about Will? You hardly know the guy. He’s not going to care if you’re gone. No one will care. No one. No one.

It’s futile, really. You wouldn’t do anything. You don’t have the guts.

You should just lie there to rot.

 

So that’s what you do. You just lie there. You lie there until the sun is at the top of the sky and until it disappears again. You lie there until morning comes around, signalling the start of another day. Another day full of pain. Full of depression. Full of emptiness.

Your phone rings somewhere around the middle of the day, you think. You don’t answer it. You just stare at it until it stops ringing.

Fanny wanders in and out of the room. Whining at your side. Wondering why her master won’t move. Wondering why she hasn’t got any food. You feel sick at that thought. You roll off of the bed into a heap on the floor, where you slowly drag yourself into the kitchen. You fill up her water bowl and her food bowl. You decide to put down two extra bowls of water and just leave the food bag open on the floor where she can reach it so you don’t have to leave your bed again.

You spend what you think is the next three days in bed. You’re not actually sure how many days it’s been, they all seem to have merged into one long day. Your phone rings every day at the same time. You never answer it. You wonder if it’s the same person calling each day. You wonder if it’s Will. It probably is, who else would be calling you?

The phone rings again on the fourth day. This time whoever’s calling keeps calling back. You answer the phone the fifth time it rings.

“Hmm?” You grumble as a greeting.

“Lucas? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to contact you for days, I got really worried.”

It is Will and he sounds upset. Upset that you never answered your phone and left him there to worry. You fucking idiot.

“I’m sorry, Will,” your voice sounds raspy. You’re not entirely sure when the last time you drank something was. “Things have been… rough, the past few days…”

Will pauses.

“Can I help?” He says softly. You think he must be able to hear something in your voice that you didn’t know you’d given away.

“I think I’m beyond the point of help, to be honest.”

Without missing a beat, Will says “What’s your address? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You wait, before reluctantly telling him where you live. He tells you he’s leaving now, he’s on his way over, and hangs up.

You just lie there, phone in your hand, staring into space. You’re not sure how much time passes before you hear the insistent knocking at your door. You haul yourself out of bed and to the front door. You unlock it and walk away where you fall onto the sofa.

A few moments later and Will is stood before you; sitting next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You relax minutely under the touch. He shifts so he’s looking at you. You’re not looking at him. You’ve got your eyes firmly fixed on your socked feet. His hand squeezes your shoulder and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

 _No_ , you want to say. _No it’s not okay. It’ll never be okay_.

But you can’t get your mouth to cooperate with your brain. Instead you just cry silent tears while your whole body trembles with the force of your pain and suffering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two but it's basically just build up for the next chapter

He sits with you until you stop crying, not saying anything, just keeping a firm and steady hand on your back. It’s more comforting than you think it should be. He stands when you’ve calmed and walks into your kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later with a steaming mug of something.

“Drink this while I make you something to eat.”

He presses the hot mug into your hands. You’re about to protest but he shoots you down with a stern look.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know you haven’t eaten in, what? A week? Maybe longer? No offense, Lucas, but you look terrible and you need to eat.”

He walks back into the kitchen without giving you a chance to reply. You sip at the drink - tea, you didn’t even know you had tea bags in the house - and sink back into the sofa. You let your eyes slip closed as you cradle the mug in your hands. You’re so exhausted.

You don’t realise Will has come back in until you feel him sit down next to you and place a plate on your lap. You open your eyes and stare down at the sandwich he’s made. The thought of having to eat it makes your stomach churn. You pick it up, regardless, and take a small bite out of it. You force yourself to swallow it. It’s a painstaking process, but you finish the sandwich, feeling no better than before.

Will moves the plate and mug on to the table in front of you. You lean forwards and place your head in your hands. Your head hurts. You can feel Will’s hand on your back again, rubbing small circles through your shirt. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“What’s going on, Lucas? You can talk to me,” he says softly.

You shake your head - No, you can’t talk to him, you can’t tell him, because then he’ll run.

He sighs, removes his hand from your back and rubs it across his forehead instead.

“I want to help you, Lucas. I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me.”

You’re frustrated. How is he supposed to help? No one can help. No one can change this situation.

“You can’t help,” you whisper. It’s such a broken, pathetic sound, it makes you cringe.

“You don’t know that--”

“Yes, Will, I do know that,” you snap. You abruptly stand up and start pacing the room. Your hands are in your hair, tugging. You stare at him, your eyes wild and desperate. He stares back, calm, collected.

His face, the way he’s looking at you, it makes you want to tell him everything.

Your mouth is moving before you can comprehend the words that are pouring out.

“I- I was accused of… _disgusting_ things. I worked… at the local pre-school, lies were spread and… I didn’t- I didn’t do anything. None of it is true but… no one believes me. My life is in ruins. I can’t see my kid, everyone in this godforsaken town is practically out to _kill me_ and, to be perfectly honest, I sometimes wish they would. Just to end this. I am sick of it. Sick of the emptiness, sick of knowing everyone hates me and wants to see me hanged. I’m so tired of it all, I can’t stand it. I’m so… I’m so alone, Will. I’ve got nothing. _Nothing_. I’m scared of getting close to you because I knew you’d find out eventually, whether it was from me telling you or you hearing the rumours. I didn’t want to get close to you because I knew you’d leave me just like everyone else. I lost all my friends, my girlfriend, my son, everyone. I can’t- I won’t--”

You stop. He’s been staring at you this entire time, his face unreadable. You can’t stand the way he’s looking at you. You practically run out of the room and into the kitchen where you promptly throw up the entire contents of your stomach into the sink. You wretch until nothing but bile comes up. There’s a hand on your back again, rubbing those small circles, trying to sooth you.

You slip to the floor and sob into your hands. Will is down on the floor beside you, he puts his arm around your shoulders.

“Why are you still here?” You spit out. You don’t mean to sound so cold, but you’d rather he just leave now.

“Because I already knew about the rumours,” he says calmly.

You freeze. _What?_

“I heard about them pretty much as soon as I moved here. It’s a small town, Lucas. People talk. When I met you, I realised you must’ve been the ‘Lucas’ I’d heard everyone whispering about,” he’s still got his arm around you, thumb rubbing at your upper arm. “I know bad people, Lucas. You are not a bad person. I knew as soon I saw you that it wasn’t true.”

You don’t know what to say. You just sit there shaking, face still buried in your hands.

“I want to be your friend. I’m not going to run, I’m not going to leave you. You’re the one person I’ve felt comfortable around in… probably a year, or more. So _please_ , trust me, let me help you.”

What he says sends your mind reeling. Your face is still hidden behind your hands and you’re still shaking. You chance a look at him and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. He looks so concerned. So sincere. You want to trust him. You want to let him help you.

You let out a shaky sigh and try to stand up. Will helps you to your feet and leads you into your bedroom. You suddenly realise you can’t remember the last time you showered and that you must stink by now. You think Will must be able to read your mind because he tells you to go freshen up, it might help you feel a bit more human. You nod and make your way into the bathroom. You strip off all your clothes and throw them in the hamper. You turn on the shower and step in, letting the hot water run down your body. You lean your head against the wall for a while, just breathing deeply, before actually washing your body.

Once you’re thoroughly clean and dried off, you step out into your room and dig around your cupboard for some clean clothes. You decide on a navy blue long sleeved shirt and some jeans. You slowly make your way back into the living room where you find that Will has cleaned up your house. You’re touched by this act of kindness.

Will is in your kitchen, making more food. You still don’t have an appetite. He ushers you to sit down and places a plate of chicken and rice in front of you. Seriously, you had no idea these things were in your house. Is it possible he brought them with him?

He sits down opposite you and waits for you to start eating. You do, slowly. As does he. You both eat in silence, and when you’re done he takes your plates to the sink and washes them. You stand and go to sit on the sofa. He joins you shortly, holding two glasses of orange juice. Now you _know_ you didn’t have any orange juice before today.

You both sit there. You don’t talk, Will talks for you. He tells you about everything and nothing in particular. You and listen to him talk until it’s pitch black outside. He eventually tells you that he needs to leave, needs to get back to his dogs. He promises he’ll be back tomorrow.

“Maybe we could go on a walk, if you’re feeling up to it?” He sounds hopeful.

You smile weakly. That seems to be enough of an answer for him.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says as stands and puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to be reassuring. His hand lingers for a few moments too long before he gives a gentle squeeze. He turns to leave and is nearly at the front door before you call out his name. He turns back to look at you, concern etched onto his beautiful face.

“Thank you,” you all but whisper.

He smiles at you and you think you’re falling in love with him.

He gives you a small wave and walks out your front door, closing it behind him.

 

Over the next few weeks, you spend every day with Will. It’s almost become a routine. You walk your dogs together in the morning, then spend the rest of the day at one of your houses. Will’s started to work on your old boat, fixing it up because he still wants to go fishing with you.

One day you decide you want to make dinner for him, as a small way to say thank you for how amazing he’s been. You feel more alive than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Ironic, really, when you end up getting attacked and beaten within an inch of your life on the way back from the grocery store.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will rides the Danish baloney pony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> euheehehhehueuehueuhehuhehueh

You’re walking back home. You’ve got a spring in your step. You’ve bought all the ingredients to make a lasagna for Will. He’ll be at your house in a couple of hours. More than enough time to get ready.

You’re nearing your house when you feel a sharp smack to the back of your legs. You fall to the floor, gasping. Your bags go flying, all the contents scattering across the ground.

You’re hit repeatedly by something heavy and blunt. On your back, your arms, your legs. You feel a boot press in to your ribs and push. You roll onto your side and curl up, arms covering your face. The heavy, blunt object smacks down on you again and again and again. You think you’re crying but you can’t be sure. A sharp kick to the face sends you reeling. You groan.

“ _S-stop! Please!_ ” You choke out. Blood is filling your mouth and dripping down your face as the boot comes down hard on your head.

That’s when you pass out.

 

You briefly regain consciousness when you hear someone calling out your name. They’re shaking you by the shoulders, trying to get your attention.

 _Leave me alone,_ you want to say. _Just leave me here._

You think you hear the person yelling into a phone, pleading for an ambulance.

Everything’s hazy after that.

 

You wake up and you have no idea where you are. You’re cold and you ache all over. You try to sit up to survey your surroundings but your body won’t obey. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Maybe you have been. You can’t really remember.

You shift into what you think will be a more comfortable position but you’re struck with excruciating pain. You let out a choked cry. Why are you in so much pain? Where are you?

A small movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention. A warm hand wraps around your wrist, thumb moving in small circles over your pulse point. A familiar face comes into your line of sight.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Will all but sighs, relief lacing his voice.

“Wh-what… happened? Where… am I?” Sharp pains shoot up into your skull at every slight movement of your jaw.

“You’re in the hospital. You were attacked. I was on my way to your house when I saw you lying in the street, not moving. I was... I was so scared you were dead. If I hadn’t found you when I did, you probably would’ve been.” His voice sounds strained, his eyes watery.

You sigh. You ask him what the damage is. He chews his lip for a few moments before answering.

“A few broken ribs, one of them punctured your lung. Fractured arm, dislocated shoulder, broken nose, lots of cuts and bruises. Possible concussion, they needed to wait until you woke up to be sure, though. The police are looking for the guy that did this to you, I’ve made sure of that,” he grits his teeth.

You know they won’t find whoever it was though. Of course they won’t. Nobody cares if an accused child molester gets beaten within an inch of his life.

Apparently you’ve actually said these words because Will shifts away from you, a look like he’s just been slapped plastered across his face.

“Don’t _say_ that, Lucas.”

You mumble an apology and sink back into the lumpy hospital bed and turn your face away from Will. He lets go of your wrist and you hear him sit back down.

The room is filled with an uneasy silence, the very air around you is tense. You’re just drifting back off into an uncomfortable sleep when you feel him place his hand over your own, lacing your fingers together.

 

It’s four days before the doctors release you from the hospital. Will drives you back home. He’d taken Fanny to his house to look after her while you were away.

“I’ll drop her off later,” he says.

You go straight to your bed, once Will has left, where you gingerly lay yourself down. You don’t sleep, you just rest your aching body. You think maybe a bath is in order, you’re certain you don’t have the energy for a shower.

You find that bathing is just as long and arduous a task as you’d thought a shower would be. It takes you over an hour to get in, soak, wash, get out, dry and dress yourself. You feel like an invalid.

You make yourself a light dinner of pasta and sauce. That in itself is no mean feat. Will arrives a short while later with Fanny. He sets up her food and water bowls for you.

You’re sat on the sofa looking exhausted and worn down. He’s watching you from the doorway of the kitchen. You look to him with tired eyes and flash him a weak smile. You think you can see something break in him because the next thing you know he’s almost on top of you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you ever so tenderly.

You clutch desperately at his flannel shirt with your good hand, trying to kiss back with as much intensity as you can muster in your weakened state. His thumbs are stroking along your jaw, his soft lips massaging yours. You wonder why you’ve waited so long to do this. You feel like you could just melt right into him.

You didn’t realise you needed to breathe until he pulls away ever so slightly and leaves you gasping for air. He gently presses his forehead against yours, your noses rubbing together. You’re both breathing deeply, the air around you is hot and heavy.

He runs one thumb along your bottom lip. You press a small kiss to it. You reach your good arm up and place your hand at the back of his head, lightly stroking through his hair. You pull him down for another kiss. It’s slow and passionate as you both try to get across everything you want to say through it. His tongue delves into your mouth and you moan. Your tongues meet and dance around each other, you can’t ever remember kissing someone like this.

He moves to press himself closer to you which makes you wince and pull back. A mix of emotions flit across Will’s face before you cup his jaw and stroke his cheek reassuringly.

“Ribs,” you tell him, gesturing down your sore body. It takes a few seconds for him to realise what you mean. He gingerly strokes down your chest whilst placing small kisses all over your face.

He starts placing open mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping ever so lightly here and there. His hands find their way to your thighs where they rub firmly. Your hand is in his hair again, holding on to him tightly. Quiet moans escape your mouth. A strong sense of frustration creeps up on you, you want to be close to him - as close as physically possible - but you can’t when you’ve got your arm in a sling and bruises littering your body.

Will must sense your tension as he pulls back and presses a light kiss to your lips.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got all the time in the world,” he whispers against your lips. A shiver runs down your spine. He moves off of you and settles down beside you, hand running through your hair. You slump down against his shoulder and he wraps two strong arms around you. You’re surprised, actually. Will looks like quite a lean man, you didn’t expect him to be so strong. You let your mind wander to what he might be hiding under his clothes.

 

You get your sling off two weeks later. Your body is still stiff and sore, but you’re not going to let that stop you.

It’s already late evening by the time you get back home from the hospital. You find Will waiting for you outside your house. He grins at you, his eyes sparkling. You move past him to unlock the front door and drag him inside.

As soon as the door is shut behind you, he pushes you up against the wall. It hurts but you don’t care. You’re tugging at each other’s clothing, groping anywhere you can get your hands on. His mouth is on your neck, sucking and biting, leaving vibrant purple marks. Your hands fall to his perfect, firm arse. You squeeze and pull him closer. He groans against your throat, hips bucking into yours.

“Bedroom,” you hiss into his ear.

He growls and grabs your hand, dragging you in and pushing you down onto your bed. He clambers on top of you and moulds your mouths together. His hands travel down your front and slip under the bottom of your shirt and pet your firm stomach. You shudder under the touch.

Your hands trail down his back and lift up his shirt, pulling it off over his head. You run your hands all over his naked torso, taking in all the well defined muscles. He is so beautiful, it takes your breath away. You’re slightly embarrassed by your own body, you’re not as fit as you used to be. Will doesn’t seem to care as he rips open your shirt and groans at the sight of your bare chest. He bites and licks at every bit of your skin that he can reach. He noses down your chest, over your stomach and stops at your navel, where he presses hot, open mouthed kisses.

You squirm beneath him, your breath hitching. You haven’t been touched like this in _so long_. Soon he’s wrestling your belt open and tugging your jeans down past your hips. You’re painfully hard in your thin, black cotton pants. He stands up briefly to wrestle his own jeans off and then he’s on you again, licking his way into your mouth and grinding his hips down into yours. You swallow each other’s moans, hands moving all over each other.

It’s too much for you, you break away from the kiss and clamp your hands down on his hips, halting his tantalising movements. He whines when you stop him, trying to move out of your hold to resume the delicious friction.

“W-wait, please,” you choke out. You’re breathing hard, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

He pushes himself up and looks down at you with hungry eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He coos, hands running up your chest.

“I’m gonna come,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, sorry, we can go slow,” he mumbles.

He places a small kiss to your lips and lets his head drop to your chest. He sighs and wraps his arms around your waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss the top of his head.

“Will,” you whisper into his hair. “Oh, Will.”

You roll the both of you over so you’re lying on top of him. You bury your face in his neck. You feel his hands run down your back, coaxing you to do more. Eager hands slip under the top of your pants, lightly squeezing your arse. Your hips buck into his, drawing deep groans from both of your throats.

You slide one hand between your stomachs and slowly palm him threw his pants. He’s writhing beneath you, panting with pleasure.

“Lucas, I- _fuck_ ,” he hisses, pressing his hips up into your hand. “ _I want you._ ”

You nearly lose it at that. The next few minutes are a haze of heat, lips, teeth and hands clawing at each other, stripping off your pants so you’re both naked and you’re planted firmly between Will’s legs.

You reach into your bedside drawer and dig around for--

_Ah, yes._

You pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. You squirt a generous amount of lube onto your fingers and rub them to warm it up. You press one hesitant finger to Will’s hole, suddenly unsure. Will’s steady hands reach down to grasp your face. He brings your mouth to his and kisses you languidly. Any reservations you had were gone, as you press a finger inside him.

He gasps into your mouth. Your finger seeks out that spot inside him that you know will make him shake, and when you find it, the noises he makes are obscene.

You’re certain that you love this man.

You start lapping at his neck as you press a second finger inside him, stretching and stroking him. One of his hands is clutching tightly at the back of your head, the other is scratching it’s way down your back. It’s a beautiful burning sensation.

“L-Lucas, I swear to _God_ , if you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to _explode_.”

He’s panting hard, he looks wrecked. It is exquisite.

You remove your fingers from him and pick up the condom. Before you have a chance to open it, Will rips it out of your hands and tears it open with his teeth. He pinches the tip and rolls it down over your painfully hard cock. You tip your head back and let out a deep, throaty moan. He squirts lube into his hand and fists your cock, making sure it’s well coated. And then some.

His hands are like vices when they move to your hips. He pulls you down between his legs again. You drop one hand to your cock and guide yourself into him until you’re balls deep. There are small explosions going off behind your eyelids as you try to adjust to the tight heat of Will around you. You’re already on the verge of orgasm. You need to calm down.

Will starts shifting his hips down against you, trying to get you to move.

So you do.

You pull almost all the way out before rolling your hips back into him, hitting his prostate on the first thrust. He lets out a choked cry, blunt fingernails digging into your shoulders.

You set a languid pace to your lovemaking, a pace that drives you both wild. You almost feel like you’re burning alive with the heat of it.

Will moans and murmurs unintelligible words in your ear before sucking your earlobe into his mouth. He’s a writhing mess beneath you. You’re barely holding on as it is.

You wrap one strong hand around his throbbing cock and that’s all it takes for him to come all over his stomach and chest in thick, hot spurts. You feel him tighten around you as you look down at his gorgeous face. His eyes are pinched shut, his head is thrown back and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

That’s how you come, looking down at the man you’ve fallen so deeply in love with.

You bury your face in his neck and lie on top of him in the afterglow of the most mind blowing sex you’ve ever had. You feel one of his hands stroke gently down your back while the other tangles itself in your sweat soaked hair. He presses kisses to the side of your head until you gingerly roll off of him.

He doesn’t let you go far. You lie next to him as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, his hand making its way back into your hair. You just lie there, holding each other, and you wonder if maybe the world will stop moving so you can stay here like this, with Will, forever.


End file.
